


Girlfriend | Little Mac x Reader |

by TonyStarks_Girl



Category: Punch-Out!! (Video Games)
Genre: Again, Avril Lavigne - Freeform, F/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:57:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6217180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonyStarks_Girl/pseuds/TonyStarks_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”</p><p>“Probably as long as I have.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girlfriend | Little Mac x Reader |

**Author's Note:**

> I adore Little Mac.
> 
> That's really all I have to say here.

You sighed, sitting next to your best friend in the crowd. You had a hood on and sunglasses, which you removed upon entering the building. It was never uncommon for you to attend boxing matches, but due to your status of a pop star, it was common for you to be hounded by fans whenever you went out.

You pulled back the black sleeve of your shirt, glancing at your watch. Lyla merely rolled her eyes, since that was the third time you'd checked for the time in the span of five minutes.

"(Name), it starts in five minutes. Just wait  _five_  minutes and you'll get to see your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!" You defended hotly. She was always teasing you about that…

She snickered, "No, but you want him to be."

"I've talked to him like… Twice, if that. I don't know him!"

"Then why do we always go to his matches?"

"We're both from the Bronx. We all support each other."

"Suuure. Hey look, it's Little Mac!"

You turned your head suddenly, eyes scanning for the rising boxer. After a quick yet thorough look around the arena, you turned back to Lyla and flicked her nose, as that was the only type of harm you could ever think to inflict on her.

"Asshole." You muttered.

"You're a major pop star; just go ask him out!"

"He's got a girlfriend." You muttered darkly, looking a few rows down, where the bitch was. "Out of all people,  _all people_ , he's dating the bitch who not only vowed to make our lives hell in high school, but has always tried to take me out of the business."

"Well, she  _didn't_ make our lives hell, 'cause fuck her, we're better. And she can't even sing, so there's no way in hell she's taking my best friend out!"

You sighed and said nothing for a few minutes, just waiting for the boxers to come out and begin the match. It was a Major Circuit match, the winner heading for a Title Bout with Don Flamenco. Your mood lifted completely though when you saw Doc Louis, because that could only mean one thing…

"Ladies and gentlemen, now introducing…"

 _"LITTLE MAC!"_  You and everyone else in the audience shrieked.

The short boxer ran out at the sound of his name, looking around in awe at all of the people calling his name. He looked over at his girlfriend, whom he'd been seeing for a good year now, only to find she was on her phone, not even paying attention.

He sighed, though the corners of his mouth were lifted once more when he saw none other than the pop star that'd been plaguing his mind for a while now. He managed to catch your eye with his teal ones, winking before turning to Doc, throwing a few fake punches at him.

Your blush was a laughing point for Lyla the entire match, but you merely tuned out her teasing and little jokes. What was interesting was the match, and how Mac was winning it. He was so lithe and quick! You had trouble keeping your eyes on him, but somehow you managed. Probably through sheer willpower and determination, if you were being honest.

Great Tiger was even having a hard time focusing on his opponent, which was quite the turnaround for him, considering  _he_  was normally the one befuddling his opponents on his whereabouts. But Mac must've been feeling fantastic, because there was no taking him down that night.

With the Indian on the mat and the ref signaling for a TKO, the crowd went wild, you and Lyla included. Doc picked up his trainee, hoisting him up on his shoulder in celebration. The boy was barely eighteen years old, yet he was headed to the Major Circuit Title Bout!

Mac smiled and waved to the crowd, his teal eyes searching for you once again. Why he wasn't searching for his girlfriend, well… He didn't really  _want_  to see her at the moment. Admittedly he was pretty pissed off, actually. What the hell on her phone was more important than this match?

xXx

"Nice work, Mac! I ain't never seen you move so fast! You lookin' good, son. Before you know it, that World Title'll be yours."

The short man of Italian descent grinned and clapped his hand across Doc's back, "Wouldn't be where I'm at without you, Doc."

The old man smiled tenderly, seeing that glimmer of hope and promise in his apprentice that he himself held back in his boxing days. He gave Mac a short hug.

"Thank you, son. Now get on outta here, have you some fun tonight, 'cause tomorrow, we startin' training for that title match in six months."

The teen grinned and smoothed out his black button up, fixing his collar as he walked, his head bowed a bit. And as he had other things on his mind (like why the hell a singer he'd met twice had much more support for him during the match over his girlfriend) he was only half concentrated on his task. So it should have come to no surprise when he bumped into someone.

And damn, how fast was he walking? Because they went right to the ground.

"Ah shit!" He muttered, kneeling down and holding his hand out, "I'm sorry, ma'am. Are you alright?"

She brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked up at him. Mac silently sucked in a breath. Out of  _all_  people…!

"If you can take a hit from King Hippo and get back up, then I think I can get up after that." You smiled.

Mac laughed lightly and you took his hand, the boxer standing with you in tow. Quickly he brushed away some dirt that'd gotten on your jeans from the floor, immediately shoving his hands in his jeans afterward, looking as adorably awkward as ever.

"Sorry." He said again, "I… Really wasn't looking where I was… Y'know, goin'."

"It's okay, really." You promised.

"So what brings you back here?" He asked, as this technically  _was_  a restricted area.

You pulled your sunglasses from your purse, "Trying to stay incognito. Well, as much as I can, anyway."

"Pink streaks kinda give you away, don't they?"

You nodded and Mac tittered lightly, "Well, I like 'em. They suit you, I mean. Not that your other style was bad, y'know. 'Cause it wasn't."

"Thank you. Amazing job in the ring, by the way. I've never seen you move so fast!"

Mac's entire face lit up, "How many of my matches have you been to?"

"I've been to every one since that first one against Glass Joe." Your smile was proud, mirroring exactly how you felt about your fanship to the boxer. "My best friend wanted me to take a break from music for at least a night, and she'd heard about a Minor Circuit match that was happening, so we went and… I liked what I saw and became a fan."

"Mac!"

You bit down on your tongue at the sound of the shrill voice. Melissa Vandella. All of your nightmares all rolled into one living, breathing being.

Also a bitch. A huge bitch.

The Bruiser from the Bronx closed his beauteous teal eyes and sighed. The sound of the woman's stilettos echoed around the empty hall, getting closer and closer as you slid on your dark aviator sunglasses.

She blew a large bubble with her pink gum. Shit was probably out of flavor by now. Ever since you first saw Melissa when everyone was filing in, she'd been chewing it just like the cow she was. She popped the gum loudly.

"What're you doin' here?"

"She's takin' the back so she can have some peace from all the fans." Mac explained hastily.

"So why are you talking to my boyfriend?" She asked, ignoring said boyfriend to further question you.

Your eyes narrowed, fist itching to connect with her jaw. "Because I'm a fan, and he was indulging me in a nice conversation. Of course, you wouldn't know anything about those."

Her mouth dropped, as if she had any right to be affronted after everything she used to (and still did) say about you and Lyla. Mac fidgeted at the tension. He was used to harsh feelings  _inside_  the ring, not out, and certainly not exhibited by his girlfriend to the woman he was currently lusting after.

"Anyhow." You continued before her nauseating voice could rise once more, "It's nice to really meet you, Mac. Good luck against Flamenco; I'll be watching."

 _Did the pressure in here just increase like ten fuckin' times??_  Mac's teal eyes widened at the thought of you sitting in the crowd during the most important match of his career. (Though, being honest, every match to date had, at one point, been the most important.)

Coolly you walked out of the building, Lyla waiting in the back with her car. You slammed the door shut, the woman not saying anything as she drove off. Occasionally her brown eyes glanced over at you, whose arms were crossed tightly over your chest. There was no way in hell she was touching that issue until there was some wine in your favorite wine glasses and maybe even a cigarette. (Even though it was a deplorable habit she'd been encouraging you to quit.)

xXx

"So…" She ran her finger along the stem of her wine glass, "What happened from the time you went out back to the time you got to my car?"

You sighed and rubbed your forehead, leaning back onto one of the lawn chairs you had out back, "Well, I ran into Mac. Literally."

"No way!" Her eyes went wide and she readjusted herself, tucking her legs underneath her lithe body.

"Well, he technically ran into me. He's got soft hands." You remarked, and normally it'd be a weird comment, but fortunately for the two of you, sayings like that were actually accepted and frequently used. "And then we started talking, and everything was great. He's really cute! It was pleasant, but then Melissa fucking showed up. I was  _this_  close to connecting her face with my fist."

"That'd be the day…" She said dreamily, gazing up at the starry night sky. "And then her jaw would be out of place and she'd be the ugly bitch she is on the inside. And then Mac would dump her and date you!" She concluded.

"I don't know if that's how I want our origin story to be, Lyla."

"Hey, whatever works."

"I suppose…"

"So… How do you want your origin story to be?"

"Honestly, I want him to realize he deserves better than that. Melissa Vandella has been a horrible person since birth, I'm sure, and he's just too sweet for that negativity she brings. She doesn't even support him! Did you see her walk out halfway through the match?"

"Yeah, actually, I did. She was gone for a while, too."

"Mhm. Doing what, probably something gross and illegal."

"Y'know, that's probably how she got "famous" in the first place."

"It is. She stole my first manager, remember? She’s a pro."

"Guess the ass started sucking, 'cause she hasn't had any hits. Except for that one, but... Whatever."

You took a long sip of the red wine, running your tongue along your teeth in thought. "I wonder if Mac listens to my music."

"He doesn't seem like a pop-punk kinda guy to me."

"True… He's probably into rap, or rock. Rap-rock too, probably. Although when we were talking, he did say how he liked the pink streaks, along with my old cut, so he definitely knows who I am."

"Maybe that means he does like your music. Or you." She tacked on with mischievous grin.

"Psh. Doubt it."

"See, that negativity of yours tells exactly that to the universe, and that'll be what happens."

"Oh my god, are you still on that from that Life Planning class in _senior year_?!"

"The universe, dude!"

xXx

"What the hell is your problem, Mac?"

Mac bit down on his tongue. Did he  _really_  want to talk to her about it right now? She did something pretty shitty, and he'd never skip out on one of her "concerts" even though, in his opinion, her music just wasn't that great. That was just what a good spouse was supposed to do: support one another. But no, she had the gall to pay attention to her phone, and then he noticed between rounds two and three that she'd completely disappeared, and saw her return out of the corner of his eye right before his knockout punch, which was probably caused due to his anger. He was always an emotional fighter, and nothing worked better than anger in boxing.

"I don't wanna talk right now."

Melissa made that noise,  _that irritating as all hell noise_ , and Mac was ready to flip the hell out. Instead he clenched his fists together and moved into the bathroom to brush his teeth, which he was starting to grind because of all the stress Melissa alone had been causing him.

"Fine, be a little bitch baby." She muttered, sending out a tweet.

_Since when are boxers so fucking emotional?_

And he didn't know what happened exactly, but suddenly there was glass everywhere, and blood was all over the sink.  _"Fuck!"_

Melissa jumped out of bed, eyes wide and hands shaking as she approached the bathroom, "Mac, what the hell was that?!"

"The fuck do you think?!" He shouted, reaching for the toilet paper to try stop the bleeding, which was to no avail.

Oh, Doc was gonna be pissed off at him for that one...

He brushed past her, ignoring her cries of panic. His brow was seemingly set in a permanent discontent, and his jaw was set so tight, it was a wonder that his teeth weren't crashing in together. Quickly he pulled on a jacket and slipped into his jogging shoes, slamming the door as he left his house.

Thankfully Doc didn't live all that far away, because the toilet paper was very quickly going to waste. He hissed as he looked at the wound on his right hand, the sight more painful than the actual cuts. Some glass was still in his hand, and he just kept on bleeding.

Right now, that damn mirror was his toughest opponent, and he'd fucking shattered it.

Three quick raps on the door were followed by a grumble, "Now who the hell is at my door this time a night?"

"Doc!" Mac shouted, "Cut the shit, I'm hurt!"

That got the old man to open up the door. Quickly he ushered his apprentice in, "What happened, Mac?"

"This." His injured hand was carefully lifted up, and Doc didn't know whether to be upset or pissed off at the state of Mac's dominant hand.

He supposed each emotion would run its course.

"There's still some glass."

Doc nodded and brought Mac to his bathroom, opening up a first aid kit and pulling out the tweezers, "Chances are, this is gonna hurt, kid. So suck it up."

"Been hit by King Hippo, Doc." He growled lightly as the biggest piece was removed from his skin. "I can take it."

After about an hour, each little piece was removed and his hand was glass free. His hand was rinsed, disinfected, and now wrapped up tightly with a tumbler of scotch in his good hand. (Never mind the fact that he wasn’t even old enough to drink, nor did the beverage comply with his strict diet—Doc figured it’d been a rough night.)

 Doc unwrapped one of his candy bars, not looking at Mac. "Now that we got you all fixed up… What'd you do to mess yaself up in the first place?"

"Punched a mirror…" He muttered around the cusp of the glass.

Mac could just  _feel_  the hole Doc's eyes were burning through his forehead, but he wasn't dumb enough to actually  _look_  at his harsh glare. Instead he resolved to take a long sip of his drink and lean back in the chair, closing his eyes and feeling his stress begin to alleviate.

"And before you say anything, I know it was dumb and believe me, I fucking regret it."

"What in the hell made you wanna punch a mirror?! We got punchin' bags at the gym, son!"

"Melissa pissed me off!" Mac shouted, his accent strong. He licked his lower lip and breathed in heavily, "I'm sorry, just... Man, she pissed me the hell off...”

The ex-champ nodded slightly, understanding now the frustration. Personally, he couldn’t figure out why he was dating her anyway. They didn’t have much in common, as far as he saw. She was into the material things, and Mac was very driven in regards to his boxing career, so they didn’t often spend time with one another.

“Son, I have a question.”

Mac wiped his eyes, tired. If only his girlfriend could shut her damn mouth, he’d be sleeping!

“What’s up?” He mumbled, holding back a yawn to instead drink some more of his alcohol.

“Do you love Melissa?”

That got his teal eyes to open up. He jerked his head back slightly, never having been confronted with the question before. How was he supposed to know?

“I… I don’t know, Doc. I’ve never had a serious girlfriend like this before. How do you know when you’re in love?” Mac was conflicted, to say the least. Times like these reminded Doc just how young and naïve his protégé really was, and part of him felt guilty for how he’d been guiding Mac away from youthful experiences normal eighteen-year-olds had.

“You feel it in your heart, son. When you think of your old lady, does ya heart flutter? Do you feel some type’a… Happiness, that’s bubblin’ inside of ya, ready to burst?”

Mac looked down into his drink, “No. I don’t feel any of that when I think about her.”

“What are you feelin’, Mac?”

“Dread.”

“So now my question is this: What are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you gonna fix it, or end it?”

Mac swallowed thickly, “I… What do you think?”

Doc chuckled and stood, patting Mac’s shoulder, “I can’t give you the answer for that one, son. Think about it for a while. I We gon’ give that hand a few days to heal before we get to work, alright? I’ll see you in the gym on Saturday morning, eight sharp. Now get back home, boy, it’s past my bedtime.”

Mac cracked a smile and thanked his mentor before heading back out into the dark, street lights guiding him. He gnawed lightly on his lip, gears turning in his head. What was he to do?

xXx  
(Two Months Later)

You were staring off into space for about an hour, a messy bun atop your head and clothes that had been worn for days now. Your songbook was open in front of you, and pencil in your hand, and absolutely nothing on the damn paper. Bloodshot eyes, empty Monster and Rockstar cans all around, and what was slowly becoming the shell of a musician was the first things Lyla saw upon entering your bedroom.

“So… How’s the new album coming?”

“One… Single. I just need to write one single before the end of the week…”

“What have you got so far?”

“Absolutely fucking nothing.”

“Well… Take a break. Shower up, get dressed, and we’ll go get some dinner or something. You look like you haven’t seen the sun for three days now.”

“Four.”

“Yeah, we’re going. Get showered.”

After an hour and a half you were presentable with curled hair, makeup, and a simple outfit consisting of a black tank top, jeans and, as always, your Chucks. Your purse was slung over your shoulder and you and Lyla started walking to nearest pizza place.

“So what kind of sound are you looking for on this album?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know. Some people miss the brat I was on the first one, some like how I “grew up” for the last one…  But honestly, I didn’t like the growing up. I feel that’s it’s pretty dull.”

“Maybe you could blend it? Maybe you could be so over-the-top about being bratty that it’s like a parody.”

“Those don’t normally do so well.”

“Well, there’s a reason you’re the star and I’m not, so do what you think is best.”

You both were silent until being seated at the pizzeria and ordering what you wanted. It wasn’t exactly a busy night, but there were a handful of other people in there, most of them couples. You rolled your eyes as you witnessed a girl and her boyfriend making out, their pizza untouched.

“Jesus Christ, tone down the PDA.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t be doing the same thing with a certain-“

“Shut up.”

“It’s true though. You’d be all over Ma-“

“Lyla, shut the hell up. 5 o’clock.”

Her eyebrow was raised and she slowly turned to her right. Upon seeing none other than Mac and Melissa, she quickly turned back and covered her mouth. Your lips formed a tight line as you listened in on their conversation, which was deplorable but necessary.

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight.” He said seriously. “I know we don’t spend a whole lot of time together-“

“Because _you_ are always training. It’s not _my_ fault we never do anything.”

“I’m sorry.” He admitted, taking her hand, “I’m just tryin’ to make a name for myself.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to be training every day.”

“I have a title fight in a few months. It’s an important match, Melissa. I _do_ need to train every day.”

“Well, duh. Still. Would it kill you to tell Doc no for once?”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure he would kill me. Look, babe, I trained harder than ever this week just so I could take you out tonight, so can we just have a nice time? Please?”

She scoffed, “Sure, you _really_ did that to take me on a date, right? Not so you could get away from your fatass trainer…”

Mac rubbed his temples and quit talking, a strong migraine settling in. All he wanted was a nice night with his girlfriend…

You rolled your eyes and looked at your best friend, “Remember when she was a cheerleader that stole everyone’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah…”

Your smirk was downright _diabolical_ , “I think I’m going to do the same.”

xXx  
(One Month Later)

“Y’know, this song is _really_ bitchy.”

“That’s the point,” You smoothed on some lip gloss, “I’m not “doing” anything she didn’t do back then.”

The song was written within two days after seeing Mac and Melissa at the pizza place, and you’d pulled your band together to create the music behind it. They’d given you weird looks after they read the lyrics, but trusted you had a reason behind it. The brat was back, they supposed.

To debut your new song, you’d be singing it live on an episode of _The Tonight Show_ and then an interview would follow. But before your performance, the host would be speaking to none other than the man this song was dedicated to. How that was perfectly aligned, you had no idea, but Lyla supposed it was the universe and the power of good thinking, so you just went with that theory.

You watched Mac’s interview with glee, noting how handsome he was in a suit. He had no tie and the jacket was open, but he was extremely suave nonetheless with his shiny black shoes and deep red dress shirt underneath the pitch black jacket. If it wasn’t clear before, it was now completely transparent that the man was of Italian descent, and his accent only made things worse for you.

_Damn, he’s so sexy…_

His interview went smoothly, and he caught your eye as the show went on commercial. You were all set up on the side stage for musical guests and you waved lightly at him, a smile breaking out on his face. Quickly you hopped off the stage and Mac met you halfway, each of you grinning brightly.

It was quite obvious the two of you were just _dying_ for a room.

“Hi.” He said, the scent of his cologne washing over you and making you weak in the knees.

“Hey. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah… That’s too bad. I enjoy your company. So what’re you gonna be singing tonight?”

“My new song, actually. It’s called _Girlfriend_.”

 _Would you be mine?_ His thought was quickly taken over with shame. He’d been trying to make things better with Melissa, and the last thing that would make things run smoother is his crush on a pop-star. Not that his attempts even without you stuck on his mind (he’d managed a week) were any good.

“Can’t wait to hear it.” His sideways grin was infectious, and you couldn’t fathom how the hell he could put that precious face on the line each time he fought, “Normally I don’t listen to pop music, but I’ve actually enjoyed hearing your music. _Complicated_ is my favorite.”

Your cheeks started to match the streaks in your hair, “I never would’ve thought you liked my music! I gotta warn you though; the brat came back on this track.”

The drummer to your band tossed a drumstick next to you, “Yo, (Name), stop flirting with the cute boxer and get up here, commercial’s almost over.”

Your cheeks flushed even darker and Mac laughed, “Go get ready to perform. Nice seeing you.” He winked and rushed to his seat, leaving your bassist to drag you onstage with a smirk.

“(Name) and Mac, sittin’ in a tree…“ He muttered in your ear.

“Ladies and gentlemen, (Name) (Last Name) with her new song, _Girlfriend_!”

_“Hey, hey! You, you! I don’t like your girlfriend!_

_No way, no way! I think you need a new one._

_Hey, hey! You, you! I could be your girlfriend!”_

Mac bit his lip. Yet _another_ reason for him to have you on the brain. You were basically declaring that you’d like to be some guy’s boyfriend because his girlfriend was a bitch!

_“Hey, hey! You, you! I know that you like me!_

_No way, no way, no it’s not a secret!_

_Hey, hey! You, you! I want to be your girlfriend!”_

Mac’s fingers worked through his jet-black hair. God only knew how much he’d love to have you as his girlfriend. His crush was irrational and probably unrealistic, but a man could dream. There was no shame in that, but there was probably a certain spot for him in hell, considering he was in a long-term relationship yet longing for another woman.

You finished up the song and everyone stood, clapping and screaming your name. You hugged the life out of your band mates, kissing their cheeks and praising them all.

“Our best performance yet!”

A water bottle was thrust in your hand and you downed half of it in an instant, using a towel to wipe off some sweat. A makeup artist was quickly fixing what you’d wiped away, despite the fact that the only makeup you ever really used was eyeliner. A flat iron was quickly run through your hair and again you were out on the set, this time sitting down on the comfortable arm chair instead of on the ridiculously warm stage just as the commercial break ended.

“Aaaaaand we’re back, after a spectacular debut of (Name) (Last Name’s) new song, _Girlfriend_. Hello there, (Name), glad to see you on my show.”

“I’m happy to be here, thank you for inviting me!”

“Anytime. Listen, your new song is great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also… How do I put this?”

You laughed, “Let’s say completely bratty and obnoxious.”

“Her words, not mine, ladies and gentlemen!”

“I got my inspiration from someone who was like the speaker of the song, who is based off of a girl I knew in middle and high school. She took everyone’s boyfriend, even if they weren’t her “type,” and was so proud of it all. She thought she was better than everyone she knew. But despite my satirical nature, there’s a bit of truth and irony. Let’s just say there’s a guy I’m into, and his girlfriend… Is the girl I knew back in school, and that… I think he can do _much_ better than her, like say… Me.”

The audience oohed and your cheeks flushed, while Mac’s eyebrows rose. He didn’t think there was much more depth to the silly pop song, but upon learning your reasons for it, his mind was racing at the possibilities.

He’d heard a few things about Melissa being very… _cunning_ in school, and she grew up in the Bronx as well, and he knew you were from there as well. Mac never went to the same schools as Melissa, as he’d only met her shortly after that first match against Glass Joe. But he did know you two were in school together, as he’d seen the yearbook photos.

What if he was the guy you were crushing on?

He’d fucking _die_.

xXx

Mac caught your arm after the show, “Hey!”

You turned and smiled, “Hi again.”

“I really like your new song.” He released your arm and straightened the lapels of his jacket. “It’s a fun song, and the meaning behind it is actually pretty clever.”

“Thank you, Mac. That’s means a lot, coming from my favorite boxer.”

His smile was perfect. It took all of you to not just cup his face and mash your lips against his and just never let him go. You wanted his strong arms to hold you at night and never let go, and for his love to be all yours. You’d give him everything you could, and you’d give anything for him to be yours, heart, body, and soul. Your heart throbbed for Mac, and that was not changing anytime soon. You’d already written a song based on your feelings for him!

“Hey, do you want to hang out sometime? I mean, with all the training I do, I don’t have all the time in the world, but… I’d really like to get to know you.”

You bit your lower lip before bursting out, “Hell yeah!”

Mac rubbed the back of his neck and pulled out his phone, “Here, put your number in. I’ll text you later.”

Quickly you typed in your cell phone number, taking a picture afterwards and setting it as your contact ID. You gave him his phone back and your hands brushed together, the touch a wonderful yet brief spark of insanity. Mac swallowed thickly and pocketed the small device.

“Guess I’ll talk to you later then.”

“I’ll be counting on it.” You winked rather salaciously and walked away, a light swing in your hips.

And if that didn’t turn any man on more than ever, than he was a damn nun.

xXx  
(One Month Later)

“Mac. Mac. _Mac!”_

The young athlete jumped with a light gasp, coming back to reality. He looked around for a moment before his eyes focused on Melissa, who was sitting across from him. They were out on a date, just like he promised her they’d go on, and he’d been staring off into space for the better half of it. He wiped his eyes.

“Sorry.” He apologized half-heartedly. He’d been daydreaming about none other than the popstar he was completely smitten with, and he just couldn’t find it in himself to care about paying Melissa any mind anymore. He was horrible, downright disgusting for it, but he couldn’t love her. He didn’t have those feelings for her.

His heart fluttered when he saw your face, when he thought of the conversations the two of you had whenever you both were free from your responsibilities. Whenever he saw his phone light up with your name on the screen, or when he heard your voice, be it through the phone, on the radio, or in person… The happiness he felt bubbled up inside of him, and he wasn’t sure if his stomach would burst, his chest, or both.

Melissa rolled her eyes, “Whatever. Should’ve known this date would suck; all the others have too.”

“You know what? I’m done biting my tongue. These dates have always sucked because you’re a bitch about it. I _know_ I don’t have limitless time, but when I do work hard enough to get some free time, I’m spending it with you, even though I _really don’t want to_. Everything sucks, to you! I don’t spend time with you, you’re mad. If I’m with you, you’re mad. You don’t even support me!”

“Mac, keep your voice down!”

“Fuck you!” He slammed his hands on the table, standing up. He was shaking slightly and it wouldn’t surprise him if steam was coming out of his ears. “I’m fucking done listening to you. What do you do for me? What? Nothing! You complain when all I’m trying to do is earn my spot in boxing history, and I’m doin’ pretty good for my size and everything that everybody says is against me! I’m done, Melissa.”

She snarled and stood up, her chair falling back as she reached across the table and slapped the man, “Fine! Go hang out with your side bitch! Just know she’ll never be as good as me!”

“She’s better than you in every way.” He said with a half-smile at the thought of you, “And I think I’m falling in love with her, something I’ve never been able to force myself to do with you.”

He pulled two fingers together and gave Melissa a mock salute before storming out of the restaurant. He happily pulled his phone out and dialed your number.

“Please tell me you’re free.”

_“Yeah, I need a break from songwriting. What’s up?”_

“I’ll be at your house in ten.”

xXx

You set your phone down, as Mac had hung up quite swiftly. Whatever it was, it must’ve been urgent, because he sounded very anxious and energized. You ran a brush through your hair and quickly slid on a light coat of lip gloss, Mac’s promise of ten minutes becoming five as you heard his knocks on the front door.

And before the door was even completely open, Mac was in the house and his lips were on yours. Instantly your eyes slammed shut and you pressed back against him, arms winding around him tightly. And while he needed to pull away for air, he just couldn’t help himself from leaving numerous little smooches on your perfect lips.

Eventually he chuckled and placed his forehead to yours, his breath gone. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Probably as long as I have.”

“Hey (Name)?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you be my girlfriend?”


End file.
